


The Sham-bolic Casino Heist

by FlorarenaKitasatina



Category: Flying Red Barrel, Gunner's Heart, One Hundred Percent Orange Juice, Two Hundred Precent Mixed Juice
Genre: Airships, Casinos, Comedy, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Dark Comedy, Disney References, Flying Buildings, Oh god, Resident Evil references, Sweet Merciful Gods of Orange Juice, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, why
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-07-28 20:47:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16249508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlorarenaKitasatina/pseuds/FlorarenaKitasatina
Summary: A business tycoon opens up his floating business—right in Tomomo's home turf, no less! Although the exterior is needlessly flashy, and the enterprise comes packing with it all manner of unlikely security detail—from singing, gun-slinging Poppos to airplane-operating monkeys—it also comes with the promise to bestow riches on those who use its services.Too bad that such a place attracts trouble. And this is trouble packing the Three Big S's: Stealth, Stealing, and Sabotage.Three people have come to deliver unto the casino that trouble.





	1. I- Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

> Another collab, although this is one with a person named Setsuna, and this required a bit of brain-tossing to get to come together.
> 
> Another crackfic... which means we're probably going to be making this wackier and zanier as it goes. Mature tag for mature-related humor later on in the story. Also, stellaurum is a portmantaeu of two Latin words, which is what me and Setsuna have decided to call OJ and Mixed Juice's in-game currency. Also, there are refinements going to be made as the story progresses, as Setsuna's just popping suggestions and I am more often than not rolling with them.

In a dimly-lit part of a large city, two women walked with purpose. They kept to themselves, weaving through dingy alleys and abandoned streets to draw as little attention as possible. One would assume they were lost, as they took turns seemingly at random, though had anyone else actually spotted them as they walked, they'd have thought the duo rather suspect. Their posture and stride were straight and controlled—to an almost professional, disconcerting degree. Each step was carefully calculated, accounting for the various bits of refuse that marked their path. Each turn, scrutinized _carefully_ for whole minutes on end before they'd even considered it. They never stepped ahead of the other, nor behind; the women went shoulder to shoulder, as though they were inseparable.

Neither spoke a word to the other, and there was no need for them to speak. Nobody confronted them—how could anyone else confront them, really, when they kept to the shadows which hid them so well only an eagle-eyed person could accurately pinpoint their features? They were animate, yet paradoxically dead to the world. One of the women, sharply dressed in a crisp black business-like outfit, halted suddenly. Her partner, clad in similar garments, did the same.

The second spoke first, her voice soft and almost void of tone, "Are you sure we're going the right way?" She idly lifted a hand to shift a long, blond plait that rested on her shoulder to hang at her back. Her partner smiled knowingly.

"Positive," the first woman replied, her voice chipper and confident. "According to my estimates—" She reached into a pocket on the front of her immaculate black jacket and produced a small phone that was so transparent her partner could see the intricate hard drive and other mechanisms that made up the device. It glowed a soft blue, and showed a map with coordinates and a destination marked with a big red dot. Its owner, pale-faced and brown-eyed with thick shades covering her irises, stared at it with a slight smirk budding on her face. She curled up the device, which bent inward to form a compact cube, before stuffing it back in her pocket with care. "—huh, we're closer than we thought. Let's pick up the pace and rendezvous with the others."

Her partner donned a shadow-shrouded smirk of her own, but one so slight it seemed her lips did not twitch in the slightest. "Roger," she replied tersely. Both started walking again, though this time their stride was a little quicker. The moon had only started to rise behind them in the distant sky, fat and full and ready to shine its silver light upon the city. The second woman took a mere moment to look at it. Few things could rival such a beautiful pearl like that; not even the glimmering of the stars could compare.

But she could not afford to dally. She and her partner had a destination to get to. After a few more carefully-calculated twists and turns, they made a turn onto a populated street that was abuzz with activity. People all around them walked with a sense of calmness, as the various blue neon lights put them at ease. Signs advertising restaurants, hotels, strip clubs and malls galore greeted the pair. A few dozen meters down, there was a town square with a sight to behold in the distance, towering over all else in what could only be described as a gambler's wet dream.

A massive building, easily twenty stories tall, floated—against all odds, it _floated_ —in the square, aglow with neon signs hovering around it and decorated with rather tasteful colors. Decorative jewels shimmered on every possible surface, including the great engine on its bottom that held it suspended—it was hard to tell how many precious gemstones were on the surface, for all of them gleamed with a radiance that couldn't be ignored. 

Precious metals made up various windowsills and signs, as well as the front doors that practically advertised their presence. The engines were massive, pouring out steam from various pipes and roaring with a force that knocked the uninitiated off their feet, further supported by massive propellers that span in a constant blur. Amusingly, circling around it was a set of levitating stairs that would, the women assumed, lead to the front dazzling doors if angled just right. The square was enlarged just to accommodate this thing.

That building was, by virtue of existing, almost begging for trouble.

The women took a moment to marvel at the beautiful yet bizarre sight. "This… is unlike the base back home," the second woman commented, an air of stunned breathlessness about her voice.

"No doubt about it. This must be the rendezvous point," the first agreed with a nod. They turned to the street, noticing everyone else had halted around them, and both brows furrowed as a limousine with more precious gems welded onto its surface and propellers in place of wheels flew past, accompanied by a red plane and a blue plane, both of which had mounted machine guns welded to their wings. It circled the big, floating construct a few times, and as it did yet more planes sporting chimpanzees in the pilot's chairs came to join the limo and the first two planes. The duo pushed their way past the crowd to get a front row seat of this popcorn-worthy sight, eyes wide behind sunglasses that hid their irises to the world. A third machine-gun-toting plane, as maroon as red wine, tailed behind them thanks to its fortunately-human pilot.

"Could they not get any more tacky…?" the second woman groaned, trying to stifle her indignance with an air of apathy. She winced as more human pilots flew past, surrounding and seemingly escorting an airship staffed by men with cutlasses, bandanas, wind-blown shirts and loose shorts. The vehicle was piloted by an elderly lad with a scraggly beard, a pirate's hat, and a purple longcoat. The men had thick and scruffy accents to match their outfits and vehicle—sails on top fitted with skulls and crossbones, whirring engines bottomside and roaring to keep it aloft.

The staff of that motley crew were also singing. Loudly. And lewdly. And off-key to top it off. The song consisted of something along the lines of this: _"Saaaaaaaailor, stop yer roaaaaaaming; saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaailor, leave the seaaa~"_ The rest, the professionally-dressed women tuned out—though, they couldn't quite stop the crowd around them from throwing in their two cents.

"You sound like deaf sirens!" a man called.

"Worse than selkies!" a woman across the street howled.

"Miusaki could sing better drunk off her arse!" another man shrieked.

The staff of the airship ignored the outraged cries, and carried on singing anyway as their vehicle slowly circled the floating building. It rose up to hover imposingly from above, the airplanes with it following suit.

The dressed women sighed before another woman in security uniform flew the same path the airship had taken on her lonesome, eyes hidden behind thick shades and a loose, freakishly large braid of pastel-blue hair trailing almost lazily behind her. Her feet pulsed with power that held her aloft; hovering at her sides, against all explanation, were two black spheres with red lines and LEDs that bleeped like landmines. "You have got to be kidding…" the second woman muttered in exasperation.

The first woman deadpanned, "Doesn't look that way to me… if they swayed _her_ into a security gig…" Then a second woman in security uniform, sans arms but sporting mechanical wings on her back, also flew past. "For the love of…" She almost couldn't believe what her eyes had just witnessed.

"Oh boy…" the second woman groaned, brow twitching. "It's almost like he's _daring_ trouble to come after him…"

"Right before he kicks it in the giblets," the first finished, turning to the floating building as the stairs and limousine aligned with its front door. As it did this, a parade of short children, all identical from the custom-made security uniforms to the gerbil ears and tails, marched through the streets with tiny handguns a-twirling in their hands. The first lifted a hand and put it on the shoulder of her partner as she rose and clenched her hands.

 _"Poppo po-po~ poppo po-po~"_ the marchers sang in perfect unison.

"The Mikkey Mousses are singing," the second woman cooed in a squeeing voice, her professional air gone for that brief moment.

 _"Poppo po-po~ poppo po-po~"_ the marchers repeated, still in unanimous harmony. Within seconds, they started juggling their guns, though they were careful enough to not drop them and fire a stray bullet into the crowd of onlookers. That didn't stop a few stray bullets from going off _anyway,_ but those either hit the road and stayed there, or wound up in the sides of the nearby buildings without damaging any windows.

"And somebody taught them how to fire guns... " the first woman muttered in dismay, as one of the small half-vermin girls strode by on a unicycle, playing the accordion and using stilts to move the pedals. As the instrument sucked in and expelled air through its bellows, it somehow fired off a menagerie of yet _more_ bullets that whizzed overhead, though even this did not drown out the other sounds the instrument had somehow made. "They bastardized an accordion…"

Two people bumbled out of the limo and stopped shy of the door, and one was already badgering the other. "Tell me, Tomomo, why are you having the security detail scare the patrons? Isn't that bad for business?" a man asked, so yellowed and rotund that the two women mistook him for an omelette upon sight. He was dressed in a crisp tuxedo, with low blond hair tied into a plait and a bald spot island atop his head. He had a twirled mustache that wrinkled with his nose.

The other, a tall and well-endowed woman, smirked knowingly. In the roar of the engines, her brown and short hair wavered with a ribbon beset on her head. "Overkill, smoverkill, you think anybody'd try their luck after seeing that crazy parade?" she retorted, waving a hand dismissively.

The omelette-man's brow furrowed, and in doing so, almost let it devour his eyeballs. "My point still stands," he rebuffed firmly. "You may have frightened the customers and damaged business, Tomomo."

"Eh, we'll just have your monkeys sort them out. And any tweaking that needs doing after that, I'll just beat some sense into the Poppos—assuming the pirates don't beat me to it," Tomomo replied, still smirking. With another wave of her hand, and a small burst of light, she conjured an ice cream popsicle, the treat as red as any ground cherry. She grabbed it before it could fall.

"... true enough," the omelette-man conceded with a weary sigh. "And is that red bean ice cream?" That garnered him a nod from his companion.

Tomomo moved the treat to her mouth and quietly licked at her red bean ice cream, after—the observing pair could only assume—remembering who the man was. "I'm sure no one will dare cross our security now... Unless they want a demonstration of real power." She nibbled on the ice cream for a bit, taking out a meager chunk to savor its flavor. "Besides, we got super-strong muscle wrapped around our fingers for our security; they'll also help keep the Poppos in line."

The omelette-man nodded upon seeing the planes, the airship with the still-singing crew, and the floating pair of women dance past the doors, seemingly waiting for somebody to get the show on the road. He cleared his throat mightily, and at once the parade stopped—the Poppos deftly caught their guns without firing them off again, and the one on the unicycle ceased playing her bastardized accordion without slowing down her ride. The floating limousine moved itself to the side of the building, allowing unhindered sight to fall upon him.

The once-stoic woman of the immaculately-dressed pair internally facepalmed upon seeing he was three good heads shorter than Tomomo, complete with noodle-like legs and arms that only further completed the omelette appearance. _"He'd make Nanako feel taller,"_ she thought to herself. She felt a tapping on her shoulder, and spared a glance behind her to find a third woman dressed as she was, with piercing red eyes hidden behind shades and a lot of silver hair all stuffed into a bun.

The red-eyed woman turned to the floating building, and the once-stoic nodded before doing likewise. It didn't take long for the Poppos to assemble at either side of the stairs, and the flying women moved to stand behind a line each. The cycling Poppo was stopped by the woman with braided hair, kept upright by a hand clutching the shaft of the ride. The airplanes and airship continued to circle overhead, pilots and crew watching with hawkish attention. The engines of the building and vehicles prevented total silence from reigning, though as far as the trio was concerned, it may well have still been present nonetheless.

All waited, breath bated, for something or someone to pierce this veil of not-quite-quiet. The omelette-man nodded with a smile, somehow twisted by his mustache. "Even though the display of both the airship crew and of the unfortunate frightening marksmanship of the Poppo Brigade were uncalled for, with what their unorthodoxly spectacular introductions, they do display aspects of very unique local cultures," he began, voice carrying over the crowd with authority and concern in equal measure. "That being said, nobody had gotten injured—and as such, I think compensation isn't warranted in this case..."

"With all of that out of the way… I do believe, with all due respect for future customers who are fortunate enough to be within these premises…"

 _"Oh here we go,"_ the once-stoic woman thought, _"it's one of **those** speeches… and he's one of **those** jackasses… then again, he's got a face only a mother could love..."_ She sighed. _"If that mother was Mother Goose, sister of Elmer Fudd and second-cousin-twice-removed of Yosemite Sam."_ She tuned out much of his speech, awaiting when and how he'd open up the doors to the building.

Her eyes gleamed with anticipation. _"Say… does his business have a plush toy shop?"_ she wondered, and reached into a pocket to pull out a cuboid device similar to that of her companion's, except green in color. She flipped it so it took on its rectangular shape, and fiddled with it until it came up with a screen projecting numbers compacted into list form.

**MONETARY GAIN, PROJECTED: One quadrillion stellaurum**

**CURRENT GAIN: Zero stellaurum**

**ADVANCE: 90000 stellaurum**

**BETTINGS' EARNINGS, PLUS POSSIBLE ENTRY FEE: 900000 stellaurum**

_"Maybe… maybe I can get by with this,"_ the once-stoic woman thought as she compacted the device into its cube form and hastily crammed it into her pocket. And as she did so, the walking and talking omelette and Tomomo shouted at the top of their lungs.

 _"We welcome you, one and all, to the Grand Airstrip Deluxe Resort and Casino!"_ Tomomo and the omelette-man shouted with all customary bravado, stepping to either side of the doors to throw them wide open. At this, the crowd cheered and got into a single-file line to enter the grandiose, most-definitely-not-asking-for-trouble-building.

The shades-wearing triad got into the middle of the line, walking with purpose as the patrons up ahead were looked at and approved by the line of security Poppos.

Tonight… they were going to make this _interesting._


	2. II- Entrance Fee

Some people of the line went through the vetting process with no incident, others with only a small margin of trouble. One lean teenage boy, wearing glasses and a headset, was stopped by the omelette-man himself. "Ohoho, I do not recall teenagers being allowed in these premises," he said.

Tomomo proceeded to pipe up through a mouthful of ice cream, "Kid's useful—arrogant, dumber than a box of bricks—"

"Hey," the teen protested, though he went ignored.

"—but still useful," Tomomo finished with a smug grin and a gulp of her treat. "On occasion. He'll be under the eyes of the Poppos, so he won't get into the more… _savory_ attractions of the casino." She nodded to a nearby Poppo, who broke from formation to personally stand behind the teen. "Let the runt through. He won't do much as long as he's supervised." The omelette-man relented, and the teen passed with his Poppo supervisor.

The similarly-dressed trio watched and walked forward as the line steadily grew shorter. A rabbit-eared woman, ahead of a tall, also-rabbit-eared man with greying slicked back hair, walked with a noticeable distance erected between her and said man that took up line space as the omelette-man gave her the once-over. "I came seeking a sponsorship; big presents for Christmas, at that," the rabbit-eared woman said. The man behind her nodded in a way that suggested an emphatic eye-roll. Without further word, and some careful contemplation from their host, she was let in.

Then the man came up, an aide at his side. "Frankly, you shouldn't give Aru the time of day—knows nothing of business, at all," the man hissed. "How about you and I prepare to make some _real_ business?"

The omelette-man beamed in a wide smile that would have made mirrors crack. "Business? About what, perchance?" he asked.

"Large toys—larger than any child can dream of," the man's aide chimed in.

The man elaborated, "We represent the toy makers and sellers around the world. Perhaps you would be interested... in exposure?"

The omelette-man's glass-breaking grin widened a smidgen. "I'd be more than glad to." 

"Good. Meet us at your earliest convenience—Aru's due to get… collected for her business soon enough," the man said, chipper and angry in equal measure. And in the man and his aide went.

Right behind them, a woman in a set of high heels, tights, and a white coat walked up the stairs. Past her long, flowing purple hair, the triad couldn't see much—save a duffel bag in her hand. "Hello, I don't believe you've been invited…" the omelette-man muttered, eyebrows rising higher than should have been possible on his plateau-shaped head.

"Well… I happened to be a respected doctor, with a PhD in medicine," the woman began, producing something out of her duffel bag. "Dr. Kiriko Wakizashi, to be precise—you wouldn't turn one of my stature out of this wonderful event, would you?"

"Oh, no no no, I most certainly wouldn't…" the omelette-man began, shaking his head. Kiriko began moving whatever it was she had produced from her duffel bag, at speeds that simply blurred the object. Tomomo stood idly by, a look of interest on her face and her ice cream halfway to her mouth. The omelette-man tried to keep his eyes focused on the thing, but just gave up after five minutes. "Alright, Dr. Wakizashi, you may pass."

And, with what the trio assumed was a shit-eating grin on her face, Kiriko was let inside, hastily stuffing the object into the duffel bag as she went. The next person up to bat was a slender woman with golden wings and long, flowing blond hair tied into a low ponytail. The omelette-man immediately gave a skeptical stare. "Hrm? And who might—"

Tomomo cut him off, "I'll deal with this one." She grinned. "So, Sweet Breaker, ever been to a casino before?"

"No, I can't say that I have," Sweet Breaker replied in earnest. Her wings fluttered for a moment, though that wasn't enough to lift her off. She turned to the omelette-man and said, "I take it you run this establishment?"

The omelette-man nodded, a faint drop of sweat trickling his brow all of a sudden. "Yes, though technically I am in a partnership with Miss Tomomo—"

"I said _can it,_ eggface!" Tomomo snapped, making the omelette-man stiffen in an instant. "This is one of mine, so shut up, sit down and let me deal with it before I start scrambling!" The silver-haired woman snickered; seemed her partners weren't the only ones who thought they were dealing with walkabout food here. 

"Anyway," Tomomo resumed, "he and I are in a joint business—and we're gonna need somebody to help us keep… two certain folks of the security detail in line." Sweet Breaker sighed as she noticed Tomomo was wearing a smug grin, which she then turned along with her attention to the two lone women amidst the Poppo Brigade. Both broke out into a nervous sweat; the braided woman wore a maniacal grin, her armless companion held an expression that was otherwise indifferent.

"Having someone as omniscient and omnipotent as you will keep those twerps in line... if anyone is stupid enough to try something," Tomomo finished, turning back to Sweet Breaker. "I'm sure you could manage that while enjoying the hospitality?"

Sweet Breaker considered this for a long moment before nodding. "Very well. I shall… accept the offer," she answered. With that, she was let inside, with a Poppo and a monkey running up the line and the stairs to accompany her on her way in.

"Mocktails only!" Tomomo called as Sweet Breaker vanished within the depths of the building. She took another bite of her ice cream and watched as a group of two women and three midgets strode up. One with long blue hair stepped forward, false rabbit ears affixed to her head. "Oooh, wait staff. Okay, you get the green light." In went the blue-haired woman. The shortest of the bunch, a purple-haired girl, went forward. Tomomo took a long look at her.

Egg-head took a long look at the girl as well, frowning contemplatively and wiping the sweat from his brow. "Barista," Tomomo decided, nodding to another Poppo. "But one that'll need help sorting and mixing drinks. It'll be a busy night." Another Poppo broke formation and went in with the girl at her side. A redheaded woman with strange conical ears stepped forward. Tomomo beamed, smiling widely. "Ooooooooooh, bouncer! Go right in, don't punch the troublemakers too hard now!" Tomomo snickered as the bouncer walked in with a spring in her step. The last two midgets, a green-haired and blond-haired duo, were simply given the nod of approval. "Don't burn the fishcakes and baklava, ya hear?" She received two nods in turn as the two walked right in.

And now, it was time for the brown-haired lass of the trio to get on the steps and greet the sons of bitches running this place. She looked at Egg-head and tried her best to keep her expression neutral. "Miss, you will have to remove your sunglasses when you partake in the services proper," Egg-head said, in as blunt a tone as he could manage. The woman sighed, lifted a hand, and pulled her shades down to reveal brown eyes. Politely folding the shades up and cramming them into a pocket, she got a nod of approval. "Are you alone, or in a group?"

The other two women trotted the stairs to meet with their partner, dropping their shades into their pockets. As they did, the once-stoic of the trio turned to look at the braided security woman, who glared fiercely back at her even through her lens. _"Yep—chronic and sustained cruelty, right there,"_ she thought as they moved to stand behind their self-imposed leader.

"Yes; just us three," the silver-haired woman said.

Tomomo promptly waved them off with a hand. "Remember: mocktails only," she stated. Garnering three nods, the trio went inside to find two waiting cues had formed in a small lobby marked with barber posts leading to different doors, one with the barista and other staff, and the other where some unfortunate people were getting scanned incessantly by the monkeys and Poppos. Somebody's… something vibrated, and the once-stoic realized it was coming from her pocket. She pulled out her cube-device and flipped it to its rectangular shape to find a text for her.

A text coming from a contact named "World's Most Annoying Space Pixie™" at that. A groan escaped her mouth as she opened the text. The silver-haired woman leaned over her shoulder. The three entered the wrong line as texting commenced.

**World's Most Annoying Space Pixie™: How ya doing, Lucky Dog?**

**Arbiter of Asskicking: Just entered the casino with Sham and Suguri, y?**

**World's Most Annoying Space Pixie™: Oh good**  
**World's Most Annoying Space Pixie™: You do realize your boyfriend's manning the cameras, right Sora?**

Sora had the decency to blush, but only a little. The texting grew more heated.

**Arbiter of Asskicking: Yes, I know, and I know he's probably going to watch me a little more 'closely' than everybody else.**

**World's Most Annoying Space Pixie™: Soooo, have you hit first base yet?**

Sora stifled a groan of indignance.

**Arbiter of Asskicking: Sumika pls stahp**

**World's Most Annoying Space Pixie™: Aww come on; everybody in this side of the dimension knows you're letting him bonk you. ;)**

**Arbiter of Asskicking: do not make me come over there I will wedge Tomomo's ice up yours**

**World's Most Annoying Space Pixie™: Like you let your boyfriend use bananas? :)**

Sora compacted her device into its cube form and crammed it into her pocket without further response, red to the ears in anger, horror and embarrassment. She took deep breaths to calm herself down, making a mental note to punch Sumika in the face when all this was said and done. She tapped her brown-haired companion on the shoulder. "Sumika's bugging me, Sham," she complained.

Sham rolled her eyes and waved her off before another vibration sang in the air. She pulled out her device in short order. "And about to bug me too, from the looks of it," Sham grumbled, flipping her device into its rectangular form—with a text from "Oh God Wai—Oh. Money."

**Oh God Wai—Oh. Money: Have Sora and Yukito hit first base yet, Loaded Die?**

Sham blushed, and some of her hair went askew of its own accord. "Oh goddamnit..." she muttered. "Not this again."

**Magnetic Idol: How the hell should I know? She tells me nothing of what she does in the bedroom!**

**Oh God Wai—Oh. Money: Okay; what'd she do to steal third? :)**

**Magnetic Idol: Again, how should I know?! Why're you butting into her sex life and badgering ME about it?**

**Oh God Wai—Oh. Money: Oh _sure_ you don't know. I've seen you three in the same room! At least tell me if she likes fruits or vegetables when she's getting eaten up. Be a sister!**

Sham closed her device and rammed it into her pocket with prejudice. "She's gotten worse about it…" she mumbled.

"Tell me about it," Sora hissed, an eye twitching. Yet another vibration sang in the air, and both turned to their third compadre. "Suguri… that's who I think it is, isn't it?"

Suguri, having pulled a similar device except red in color, gravely nodded. "Yeah… this is gonna be fuuuuuuuuuuuuun," she scoffed with an air of sarcasm. She flipped it to its rectangular shape to get a text from a contact whose name was "End Me Harder."

**End Me Harder: I remember seeing you doing a grocery run before we started the op, Double Decker. What did you get for Miss Asskicker's toyboy?**

**Silver Surfer: Why are you asking about that NOW?**

**End Me Harder: Well, I just wanted to know. Did you get some salad dressing or some vanilla ice cream and chocolate topping?**

**Silver Surfer: No, he just asked for some sugar and some eggs.**

**End Me Harder: I heard you spent last night with the others. Did you also bring in a saucepan and an egg beater?**

**Silver Surfer: ... What are you getting at?**

**End Me Harder: Ooh, so she likes her coating hot, and well beaten. I bet he loved that meal! ;)**

And with that, Suguri crammed her device into her pocket, face so red she looked flushed. "She's really asking to have a slightly hot beam wedged where the sun won't shine…" she grumbled.

"It's best not to give her anymore ideas, Suguri," Sora hissed, arms crossed over her chest. "None of her damn business anyway."

"On the bright side, she didn't bug our rooms," Sham piped up, rubbing her temples to soothe her reddened face. "Otherwise, she wouldn't be asking about this."

"I'm going to assume NoName gave her the idea to ask in the first place," Sora said rather matter-of-factly, shaking her head. "Such things would be right up his alley."

Sham, being the first to actually look at the line she and the others were currently in, proceeded to turn and walk to the other one. "Nope, this one," she said, clasping Sora and Suguri's hands to shepherd them along. Before they could protest being dragged, the monkeys and Poppos surrounded them and began scanning away. Sham spotted one on a desk just at the side of the door she and the other two musketeers needed to get through, and pushed her way to it, a hand letting go of Suguri to dig feverishly in her pocket.

She pawed around until she felt a round cloth form and pulled out a large, bulging brown satchel almost filled to bursting. "Pohyapo?" the desk-Poppo asked, tilting her head.

Sham plopped the bag on the desk, defly gestured to Suguri and Sora, and then knocked the bag over the floor to let its contents spill out. Golden coins, marked with a star emblem on either side, now decorated the floor—so many, in fact, it almost seemed the bag was holding more than possible until it burst. The Poppo nodded to one of the scanners before diving under the table; the one who received the nod bouncing ahead to lead the trio inside the establishment proper while the others and their monkey compatriots rushed to the table to collect as much as they could grab.

Once inside, they stopped to marvel at what they were seeing. Coin slots, bars, poker tables and wait staff dotted the place with tact and taste—not too much of one thing to overpower any other, as though in its own deranged sense of harmony. And that was just on the side of the casino they were looking at! The color choices were subtle—blues for the bars, reds and oranges for the slots to name a few—but all in all made the place shine that much more.

Sham grinned diabolically. "Okay girls, let's get this show on the road," she said darkly. She pulled out her device and texted a contact named "Tiny Space Dick."

**Magnetic Idol: Okay Shifu, you know the deal. Keep an eye out as planned, and make sure you mingle and fit in.**

**Tiny Space Dick: What do you mean tiny? I'm just height disadvantaged!**

**Magnetic Idol: No, you dumbass, that's Nanako's who's height disadvantaged. -.-'**


	3. Chapter III- Cash Pile

Sham's phone vibrated before she got the chance to cram it back in her pocket. Expecting another text from Shifu, or more incessant badgering from Sumika, she flipped it back open and blinked when she found nobody had texted her. Odd. She turned to her partners, only to find Sora pulling hers out. Double-checking her own to figure out what was wrong, Sham sighed when she found it was just announcing the late hour. "Thanks a lot, phone…" Sham grumbled to nobody in particular.

**World's Most Annoying Space Pixie™: Hey, Sora, now'd be a good time to check the gift shop.**  
**World's Most Annoying Space Pixie™: I heard they lined it up with high-quality toys; may explain why the toy guild took interest in the casino.**

**Arbiter of Asskicking: What's it to you?**

**World's Most Annoying Space Pixie™: Well, I hear they lined it with some really good plushies and stuff. Some of the other wares might be right up your alley, if you get my drift.**

Sora's brow arched sharply as she stared at that bit of intel. Why was Sumika egging her on to the gift shop after she'd just entered the casino all of a sudden? With a heavy sigh, she replied once—so sealing her fate.

**Arbiter of Asskicking: So why bring it up now?**

**World's Most Annoying Space Pixie™: Sora, dear, it's the grand opening of the most luxurious casino with a resort for the first time in this side of the dimension. If you don't hit the gift store now, you might be left with just the dregs.**

**Arbiter of Asskicking: *sigh* But Sham wants us to work on the money-grabbing...**

**World's Most Annoying Space Pixie™: Just move your little shopping trip forward, I'm sure she won't mind.**

What the… okay, perhaps Sumika had a point. Sora contemplated this for a moment, then resumed texting.

**Arbiter of Asskicking: I guess you have a point...**

**World's Most Annoying Space Pixie™: You think they have limited edition back massagers and eggs? I mean it is modeled after MacEggface, after—**

Sora slammed the phone shut before she could read the rest of that message. Nope, she was not going to send herself further down the mental gutter, no matter how many times Sumika begged. She had a goal to meet, damnit, and she wasn't going to let anything stray her from the course now.

Although… the gift shop was a tempting fare, that much she had to concede. Sora chanced a glance around; there wasn't a kid in sight. A few kid-sized folks, certainly, but she was quick to write them off as anything but what their height issues suggested thanks to their mannerisms. They walked and talked and used the services the casino had to offer with as much knowledge as any well-seasoned gambler would have possessed.

That is to say, everyone single midget that was present and within line of sight were either swearing their asses off at the slot machines, or cheering wildly whenever they won a poker match. But Sora noticed another presence hanging around a golden-eyed girl who was howling at a slot machine; a tall man sporting a vibrant red muffler, arms crossed rather contemplatively over his chest, as slender and steadfast as any well-tightened screw. He looked at the girl when she made eye contact with him, but the moment Sora averted her eyes, his blue ones shot right back to her—it was only thanks to peripheral vision that she could see that.

He did nothing more than stand and stare until she turned her head again. Then he turned to another unoccupied slot machine, seemingly considering trying his luck with it. Sora got a niggling feeling about that man, but her more apathetic side brushed him off too; he wasn't doing anything mischievous, and insofar as she knew, he was in no way part of tonight's business venture.

That, and the casino was filled with lots of folks who'd do a lot of staring anyway, whether it be her or someone else. Thus, his antics, however minimal they seemed, weren't part of her problem. She crammed her phone in her pocket and turned to Sham, donning little more than a slight frown. "What the hell is Mira doing here?" she asked.

Sham shrugged. "I dunno; you should ask him?" she rebuffed.

Suguri piped up, gesturing at the girl that Mira was accompanying, "Probably just babysitting for the night." They heard a machine being shaken, and turned to the girl as coins began to pour out of the machine she tried. She squealed and tried to shake for more before Mira pulled her away, smiling at the growing bounty.

"I got lucky sevens! I got lucky sevens!" the girl screeched, eyes wide in delight as she cheered for her victory. "Mira, can we get some yum-yums with this!?"

Mira nodded. "That… actually sounds good," he agreed.

Sora couldn't help but smile at the rather adorable sight. "That slot machine picked a bad day to run," she remarked. She turned to Sham again and asked, "So… should we move forward with the plan?"

Sham nodded. "If you do hit the gift store whenever, just don't drag us into it, a'ight?" she asked. Sora pulled out her phone and checked her advance again, and felt an itching on her hip as she idly reached into one of her pockets. Before she could ruminate on where to go or what the feeling was, a young brown-haired girl in a white sailor fuku ran up to Mira and the girl he was babysitting and took some of the coins.

"Mine!" the fuku-clad girl exclaimed, a wide smile on her face. "Let's spend it at the bar!" But before she could even take one step backward, she found Mira moving swiftly enough there wasn't even an afterimage left; in milliseconds, one hand was on her head and grasping her hair and he knelt so he was eye level with her.

"If you return the coins, we won't kick your ass," Mira said simply, eyes narrowing just the slightest bit.

"Red! Blue! _Christsmasher!_ " the fuku-clad girl yelled. A red and blue blur shot to Mira, but he wisely backed off and let go to dodge the incoming bonanza without even looking at where it was coming from. The blurs bounced at where he stood, hit the slot machine spewing coins, which caused it to rumble and spew forth more just as the flow was starting to dwindle to a trickle. The three, all gasping, stopped to turn to the machine as a red and blue pair of penguin-like birds stopped next to the fuku-clad girl.

Silence held, for maybe five seconds when the girl grabbed some more coins before they could hit the pile and then made off with her small bounty and the walking birds. She skipped away without daint or grace; just jumping from one patch of carpet to the next with such giddiness it seemed to fuel her very being. Mira's jaw dropped at the audacity of what had just happened. "The… machine is broken?" he croaked, eyes wide and pupils shrunk.

"Who cares? Let's get this cashed in so we can get the yum-yums!" the squealing girl replied, eyes still sparkling in delight. Mira sagged and gave an exasperated sigh, but he moved to start gathering the coins.

Sora shook her head, still grinning at the brief bout of madness. "At least the chronic and sustained cruelty didn't see that," she muttered.

"Conceded," Suguri agreed with a nod. She pulled out her phone as it began to vibrate, and found herself with two texts from a contact named 'Iron-Blooded Alchemist.'

**Iron-Blooded Alchemist: This fuku girl just ran in front of the bar, SKIPPING no less**  
**Iron-Blooded Alchemist: what do**

**Silver Surfer: I don't know Nanako, give her something without alcohol?**

**Iron-Blooded Alchemist: But she won't shut up because she's asking about every drink on the MENU!**

**Silver Surfer: … oh...**

***

Said fuku-clad girl, with a smile on her face, slammed her coins on one of the many bars with a gleam in her eyes. "You know this is my first time at the bar, and I've always wanted to be sitting at one with a drink!" she said, her volume reaching towards the glass-breaking level with each word that flew out of her mouth. Her eyes went to the menu behind the bar, and the unfortunate barista who now had to deal with her. "Fruity Tutti… okay… Dominating Septette? Huh, and the… Screaming… Orgasm? What a weird name…"

The barista, glass and rag in hand, silently shook as she waited for the girl to place an order. "Miss, I get that you're excited," she said carefully, with the restraint of someone wanting to strangle something bare-handed, "but could you _please_ order something already? A line is forming…" True to her word, a few other patrons all gathered up behind the fuku-girl to see what the hubbub was about, and they were wise to keep their distance.

Finally, after what could've been construed as an eternity had passed, the girl's eyes settled on a red drink featured on the menu. "I'll take a Screaming Orgasm!" she cheerfully declared.

"... with fruit bits, or without?" the barista asked.

"With fruit bits!" the fuku-girl answered.

The barista nodded, the shakes she was suffering from finally subsiding a bit. "One… Screaming Orgasm… coming right up," she said drolly, turning to a cubbie within the bar before bending over and opening it up with a hand. Gathering the ingredients, she eyeballed a bottle of gin sitting behind the shakers and containers, gleaming in a way that said _'Drink me!'_ within the cubbie.

She sighed and put the ingredients, and a shaker, on the bar before mixing them up, putting them in said shaker, and screwing the light tight. She wasted no time asking her loud and brash customer, "Shaken or stirred?"

"Shaken!" the fuku-girl declared. The barista sighed and shook the concoction, slowly at first to make sure the lid was leak-proof prior to speeding up the motion—more to calm herself and get rid of her angry jittering than what was remotely needed to ensure the mixture was perfect—and pouring a glass. The resultant liquid was bright red like rubies, with bits of strawberries and other fruits sprinkled throughout for good measure. She slid it down the bar, and watched as her customer caught the glass and downed it in one motion. "Another!" she cried.

The barista shook her head, but walked over to oblige the belligerent girl nonetheless. She poured the glass, collected the coins, and nodded to herself as she deposited them in her apron. "At least you have enough to have a shaker," she said, leaving said shaker within her customer's reach. "Knock yourself out."

"Alright!" the fuku-girl declared, downing her second cup and pouring herself a third. The barista pulled out a phone and texted.

**Iron-Blooded Alchemist: finally got her out of my hair**  
**Iron-Blooded Alchemist: Suguri wtf r u doing**

**Silver Surfer: Sora's dragged me and Sham to the gift shop; she's acting like a little kid again**

**Iron-Blooded Alchemist: what**  
**Iron-Blooded Alchemist: why**  
**Iron-Blooded Alchemist: tf is Sora doing**

**Silver Surfer: Blowing her whole advance**  
**Silver Surfer: She's buying out the gift shop**

The barista jerked her head back up as a mountain of coins came along, hefted by a whole team of Poppos with a hammock and a massive fishnet. They grunted and strained, and plopped it down at the far end of the bar. Several patrons gasped at the bounty, eyes widening and wondering who even had ownership of the thing.

One patron muttered, "I dunno who'd blow any of that away, but that's stupid."

Curious, she walked over to inspect the anomaly before Mira and his charge came over and sat down, the both of them putting two more fistfuls onto the bar.

"I'd like _several_ Screaming Orgasms, please," Mira said bluntly, eyes a bit sullen. That got him a few gasps from the surrounding crowd, and some snickers from a patron eyeballing the cash pile.

"That's not a good idea bud," the snickering patron said. "That's dumb as fuck." Mira got the feeling there was something else to his warning, but was past the point of caring what that was. The lad was waved off by a hand.

"You have any spicy drinks? I'll take those," the golden-eyed girl said with a grin. The barista nodded, took the money and counted it before getting two more shakers for the pair.

"How spicy are we talking?" the barista asked, looking at the smaller of the pair.

"Spicy-spicy," the girl answered, eyes gleaming. "I like them _burning._ "

"And you?" the bartender continued, turning to Mira.

" _All_ of them," Mira said simply.

The barista raised an eyebrow. "Elaborate," she said.

"As spicy as you can legally _allow,_ " Mira replied bluntly.

The barista nodded and pulled out a pen and paper. "If you could just sign this—"

"Whatever, just get the drinks now," Mira interrupted.

"Sir, could you please—"

"Right. Now," Mira snapped.

"Could you please sign this—"

"What part of _right now_ did you not understand, pipsqueak!?" Mira barked. The barista recoiled at the insult, and his volume.

"Did you call me—"

Mira waved the barista off. "Look, it's been a long day…" he huffed. "Just… whatever." He gestured to the pile of coins. "Knock yourself out to tips and just gimme your best shots." The barista slowly nodded, sighed, waited for him to sign the paper as she got to work on his order. As she did, a nearby Poppo helped herself to some small fragments of the pile.

"Alright… I'll give you what you've asked for," the barista replied, a malicious glint shining in her blue eyes as she started filling up shaker number two. She turned to the Poppo and snapped, "Oi! He wasn't speaking to you!" The Poppo huffed, stuffed a coin in her pocket, and blew the barista a raspberry. The barista rolled her eyes with a muttered "whatever" as ingredients went into the container.


End file.
